


Free Service - Maccready X Male!Sole Survivor

by itiosthegamer



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6561517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itiosthegamer/pseuds/itiosthegamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desjarden meets a merc who catches his eye.</p><p>Sorry. Never was good with summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sanctuary

Desjarden and Nick were on another routine scavenging trip, somewhere near Concord.  
This time, Des had T-60E power armor covering him from head to toe.

“Nick?”  
“Need something?”  
“I just wanted to know where we stand.”  
“Well, you're out to make a difference in the Commonwealth. Not too many blokes now a days are. We stand on good ground.”  
“Thanks, Nick”  
“No problem.”

Things were a bit awkward between Nick and Codsworth after what happened a few months ago.  
DesJarden and Nick maintained a stable relationship, or atleast tried.

“Well, we better get going. Don't want any more gunners biting our heels.” Interposed Nick.  
“Yeah. Remember, take anything you can.”  
“I'll get it done.”

The trip went well, and also very...blandly.  
They found little of value.  
They found somewhere between 50 caps and 65, Desjarden not being bothered to count them.  
They also a lot of junk, namely wood and aluminum cans.  
Nick sighed deeply as they make their way back north to Sanctuary Hill.

“Atleast it went over better this time than it did the last time.”  
“Was I really that bad?” Teased Nick  
“I meant the Deathclaw nearly taking my leg.”  
“Oh, I tend to forget insignificant details.” Nick wouldn't relent with his joking.  
“Oh come on, it wasn't that small. I still have a giant scar.”

The two arrive, a heavily geared up Cait guarding the wall Desjarden had built around Sanctuary.  
The steel was hardly planted in the ground, but it was wrapped in sharp barbed wire to stop or scare away raiders.  
It worked for the most part, as for super mutants...not so much.

“Ah, sir! I was waiting for you and the synth to arrive.” Codsworth was peering over the wall  
“Good. Well, could you grab me a Gwinnett?”  
“Of course, sir!” Beamed Codsworth, his positivity being infectious, casting a smile over the two.

Codsworth hovered away, Cait kicking the gate open for the two.  
Nick and Desjarden stepped in, seeing the almost fully restored Sanctuary Hill, Des taking months to build the houses back the way he remembered, and was very happy with his work.  
While Nick never fully understood, he still supported the idea.  
Desjarden was tired, not even the core assembler of his power armor would give him enough energy to stay awake.

“Hey Nick...I'm really tired...could you get the release valve?”  
“Sure.”

Desjarden had a handicapped suit of power armor, having no release control on the inside.  
Nick released Des, who left his power armor on the road from the gate.  
He approached the wall, laying against the wall.  
The metal wasn't comfortable, but it gave Desjarden some relief from the exhaustion.  
Turns out, wearing a giant suit of metal, circuitry and gadgets would take a lot out of you.  
Fusion cores helped lighten the load, but nothing would rid the armor of its weight.  
In moments, he had fallen unconscious.  
It was a dreamless slumber, but a peaceful one.

“Goodnight, sir…” Whispered Codsworth, laying a cold beer next to him and tossing a ratty blanket over him.


	2. Chitchat

Desjarden wakes, staring into the deep orange sky, the sun nearly blinding his unadjusted eyes.  
He felt some pressure against his lowest ribs and abdomen.  
He glances over, seeing a dirty bottle of Gwinett.  
A faded vomit green blanket was tossed over him, from shoulders to knees.  
It reeked of 2 year old tuna and 200 year old dust.  
He tossed it off, coming to his feet.  
Desjarden stretched his stiffened muscles, yawning loudly.

“Ahh, sir, you’re awake!” Bubbled Codsworth.  
“Mornin’ Coddsy…” He was rather quiet, still tired.  
“Sir, we are serving lunch. Are you hungry?”  
“No, I'm good.”  
“Be sure to eat, sir. It is authoritative in the functions of your bodily functions”  
“What are the others having?”  
“I made vegetable soup and some Yao Guai roast.”  
“Oh. Resourceful as always.”  
“Many thanks, sir.”

Codsworth floated back towards Desjarden’s prewar house.  
He trailed behind the robot, his shoes moistened by the rain which fell while he slept.  
The rubber soles of his sneakers were soaked, squeaking with every step.  
His platinum blonde hair was messed around and unkempt, now also moistened.  
Codsworth pulled to a sudden stop.

“Mr. Desjarden?”  
“Yeah, Codsworth?”  
“I believe a gunner came through the other day, while you and Mr. Valentine were scavenging.”  
“So? I put Cait on guard duty, he couldn't have gotten close”  
“That's the thing, sir. He said he didn't mean harm. Just claimed to be looking for work.”  
“I trust you sent him off.”  
“I did, but he seemed intent on meeting you. He said he wanted to see you as soon as possible, and that he resided in Goodneighbor.”  
“I'll head over. Maybe it'll add some much needed excitement around here.”  
“Perhaps. He said he heard of you from a friend of Nick’s. He couldn't be too terrible, if he's friends with Nick, could he?”  
“No. Anyways, I'll head out after lunch.”  
“I'm glad you're eating well, sir”

The two quickly resumed walking.


	3. Gateway

Desjarden rushed lunch, curious about the merc.  
He packed his backpack with spare drums of ammo, picking an assault rifle from a steam trunk of many weapons.  
In his rush, he had pulled on a battered suit of road leathers, and robot armor.  
Cait was leaning in the doorframe, laughing to her.

“In yer gonna change, have the decency to shut th’door.”

Desjarden quickly spun on his heel.

“Cait! Privacy!”  
“Just warnin’ ye’ “

She laughed her way back to the group, which were still eating lunch or talking in the kitchen of the restored house.

“Ahh, Mrs. Cait. I trust you didn't...cause a stir?” Questioned Codsworth.

Desjarden tossed on his backpack, and tucked his black vest, white undershirt and black slacks back into a drawer.  
He took off for Goodneighbor, Cait following close behind.

The two were met with a less than pleasant sight, Goodneighbor being in shambles and boarded up, a sole, blue door the only entrance.

“Somethin’ wrong, Des? Not how ye left it?” Teased Cait  
“No…” Mumbled Desjarden with a ‘no shit it isn't’ tone in his voice.”  
“Hey Matt, got more Rust Devils!” Yelled a guard.  
“We aren't Rust Devils! We just want a stiff drink and to meet a gunner that lives here!”  
“You mean Maccready? Well, he’d want me to let you in if that's the case.”

Desjarden had no clue where the ‘guard’ was, so even if he were to threaten his way in, he had no clue where to aim.  
Cait, however, couldn't care less about Maccready, and really just wanted the drinks Desjarden had promised her to get her on board.

A click came from the door opposing the two, and it swung open.

The two entered, seeing just an utter mess, broken boards here, smashed bricks there and a general lack of care for appearance.

“Hey, scavver. Heard you're here for RJ”  
“Who?”  
“Robert Joseph Maccready…”  
“Yeah, I've been told that's the guy.”  
“Wel, you mentioned gunner, and he's the closest thing we have to one. He's in the bar called the Third Rail, find it yourself.”  
“Wow. First person I ever met who was both hostile and friendly.” Mocked Desjarden.  
“It would be best if you just went on your way.” Growled the guard.

Cait and Desjarden obliged, search around for a bit before finding the Third Rail.


	4. Faded Memories

The two enter, seeing a formally dressed ghoul guarding a cage...door….thing…  
The man gave the two a hard, long look, Desjarden feeling a little uneasy

“Go on in, you two. Don't cause trouble.” Groaned the ghoul.

His voice was like sandpaper, very raspy and scratchy like he was sick or breathed something in, and based on the amount of drifters in Goodneighbor, neither Cait nor Des counted that out as a possibility.  
The two head down the stair to what they assumed used to be a subway station.

“Real dump, this place.” Complained Cait.  
“Ditto, but remember why we're here”  
“A drink?”  
“You wish.”

The two approached a Mister Handy which was running the bar.  
On closer inspection, they noticed a tiny Union Jack stamp on the lower part of its torso.

“You hear for a drink? Or the ladies?”  
“I'm looking for a man named Robert.”  
“The ex-gunner mercenary?”  
“I think that's him.”  
“His room is to your right.”

Desjarden looked over, seeing a doorway which had been fashioned from scrap metal.

“And three pints for Cait here.”  
“Certainly. And I'm sure the fee of 123 caps is chump change for you.”

Desjarden tossed down his backpack, digging for his cap stash.”  
He grabbed at a plastic bag bound by rubber bands.

“Got it right here.”

He tossed down the bag.

“Cait, don't drink yourself half to death again, okay?”  
“No promises.”

Des slung back on his bag, entering Maccready’s room.  
A dirty couch sat along the wall opposing the door, and a ratty mattress was placed in the far left corner.  
Maccready was leaning back against the faded pink-ish sofa, a lit cigarette held between his index and middle finger, the smell making Desjarden feel sick to his stomach.  
It wasn't the first time he dealt with the terrible stench, so he wasn't as taken back by the smell of cigarettes and mold as he would've been.

“There you are. Almost thought you forgot about me.”

He didn't answer, but took in the sight of the dimly lit room, and the farely handsome man which occupied it.  
To be honest, Desjarden had married Nora, and had Shaun, but still felt alienated.  
He did love Nora, just had been interested in men for a while, and married her to help tame it.  
But Maccready brought him back to those days, and Desjarden had lost himself.

“Hey, didn't offend you, did I?”

Desjarden realized that he was staring the man down.

“Sorry. You just bring me back to the old days.”  
“Wish I could say those days were all that good.”  
“No, before the war.”  
“Before...the war? You must be ancient.”  
“It was Vault 111...they cryogenically froze me.”  
“That old place? The gunners raided it a while ago. Just found a bunch of dead bodies.”  
“I was the only survivor of that place...anyways, why’d you want to see me?”  
“I was looking for a job. Came by Sanctuary Hills.”  
“I have a job if you want one~”

And there go the dirty thoughts.

“What kind?” Maccready knew what Des was thinking, and was rolling with it.  
“Well what can you do?”  
“What would you have me do?”

Desjarden’s mind was going all over the place.

“Umm...your call?”  
“Guard?”  
“No, we have turrets over in Sanctuary…”  
“How about a bodyguard?”  
“Maybe…”

‘If it means I get this handsome fuck by me...it's worth it…’

“Hello? Could you stay focused here?” Maccready had interrupted Des’ dirty thoughts.  
“Sorry.”  
“Look, you feelin’ alright?”  
“It's nothing. Just getting some memories.”  
“What of? I know you didn't come here expecting just another worker.”  
“Before the war, I was married.”  
“Sounds nice.”  
“Let me finish. I married her to convince myself I wasn't gay.”  
“So you were ashamed to be you?”  
“A little bit, yeah.”  
“And how did I bring you those memories?”  
“Remind me of the first guy I hooked up with. Except you actually look decent.”  
“Heh, thanks. If it helps, don't be afraid to be you. If it doesn't, then void that.”

Desjarden laughed.

“Thanks...Robert?”  
“Call me Maccready.”  
“Name’s Desjarden.”  
“You aren't from around here, you are you?”  
“No. I’m from Vermont. Pre-war, Vermont that is.”  
“Heard the raiders from up there hoard so much loot. Maybe you could suit up and head up there sometime?”  
“Maybe. Truth be told, it was really a utopia prewar. Hope some decent folks survived the way I did.”  
“I doubt it. You're one of the only decent folks left.”  
“Yeah...between the paranoid of the institute, the institute itself, the Brotherhood of Steel, the Synths they hunt down, and the Minutemen, almost nobody has any decency.”

Desjarden realized now that the Christian ideology of Hell he grew up faithful to was where he kicked off his boots and hung his hat.  
A soft, yet pained whimper escaped him.

“S...sorry Maccready...you probably didn't expect me to burst in and get all emotional on you…”  
“Well, your Mr Handy told me you weren't the most stable person.” Explained Maccready “Truth be told I expected a lot worse than somebody missing the glory days.”

Desjarden weakly tossed his faded, dirt brown backpack down at the man’s side.

"Oh, well, take your money...and whatever..."  
“Hey, cheer up, you wouldn't want anyone to see you like this.”  
“Yeah...thanks. And take anything you want from the bag.”  
“Will do. See you in Sanctuary.”

Hearing Maccready say gave Desjarden a sense of indescribable satisfaction.

“See you soon, Mac.”  
“What no kiss goodbye?” Snapped Cait, who had entered the doorway.

Both of the men turned to see her.  
She had a hand on her hip and a wicked grin on her mug.

“No. Sorry to disappoint.”  
“Aww, shame. Well, Gardens, we better get going.”  
“See you in a while, Boss.”

Cait and Desjarden began their walk home...


End file.
